


To Stiles, On His 28th Birthday

by milkyway



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Uses His Words, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Derek is Not a Failwolf, Derek is Stiles's Anchor, Domestic Derek and Stiles, Established Relationship, Feels, Fluff, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Married Couple, Memories, One True Pairing, Romance, Same-Sex Marriage, Stiles is Derek's Anchor, Stiles's Name, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:58:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkyway/pseuds/milkyway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek started out writing a birthday card for Stiles, but then ended up writing a love letter...</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Stiles, On His 28th Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of inspired by "Some Things You May Not Have Known About The Stilinski Hales".

**To Stiles, on his 28th birthday**

My love, my mate, my husband;

Here is a piano.

God knows you've needed one for a long time. Sure, we've had my mother's upright for a while, but though we restored it as best we can, it was never the same after the fire. Though it is a beautiful heirloom, you've needed something that fits your talent, which you can now indulge in again, now that your family medicine residency is over. I might not have your gifts, but I know how important a good instrument is; I'm such a silly wolf, I should have done this earlier, right after you gave me the Fender for my birthday and, voila, my band got their first radioplay.

But better late than never. I had wanted to get you a brand new full concert grand, but Allison told me I'd have to build a whole conservatory to fit it in and you'd be pissed that all that money wouldn't go to the kids' college fund (you plan everything so well – you've already made us invest even as our first baby is only now a ten week-old embryo, whiling gently away in the womb of a most generous woman who so graciously has given us the gift of a whole new life).

So I looked long and hard and found this. She is a parlour Steinway grand made in 1952, loved and treasured for a whole life by a music teacher and sometime concert pianist who died recently in Hill Valley. Though her family would have wanted to keep it, none of them play and they have no space. As you can see, she is in mint condition and Van Cliburn reportedly played the Rachmaninov 3 on her on a tour through California many years ago.

You are so beautiful when you play. I mean, you're always beautiful, the most beautiful thing in my life, but it's as if you and the music merge when your fingers hit the keys; it's when you're at your calmest, your heart slows and your eyes close like you're dreaming of infinity. The only other time you have that oceanic look is in the warm glow after we've made love and you call me your Sweetwolf. I know I'm grumpy, and keep my feelings from you sometimes, and don't always communicate that well, but you're always ablaze in my heart.

May you always play. May the music ever move you...

…I love you so much, my darling man, I don't know how to articulate it. Although I didn't know it then, I've loved you since you were sixteen and I saw you and Scott in the forest. Something clicked in place that day in the pool when you saved my life and held me up for hours when I was paralyzed from the kanima's venom. I begged you not to let me go when you had to rush out, I thought I would drown, because up to that moment I had never trusted anyone except my family. But you came back, you brought me to the surface.

You've brought me to the surface in so many ways. You've shown me that I can be a creature of the light as well as the dark. Like you said, what is moonlight but reflected sunshine? You rushed in on me, all a-chatter and flailing arms and fierce intelligence and white-hot loyalty. I didn't know what hit me. I resisted, fearing this new feeling. Because until you came into my life everything I ever loved had been taken from me. I denied my feelings, but you pressed on fearlessly. I am so ashamed about how I treated you in the beginning, yet you laugh and giggle about how I slammed you into the steering wheel and tried to be all Big Bad Wolf to your Red Riding Hoodie. I know you hate it when I call you that, but, we know, I am your Wolf and you are my Red, forever. That is why our pack is feared and respected throughout the continent. And, damn, you look hot in your hoodies. 

We've battled demons, and witches, and ghosts, and a whole NatGeo special of monsters in the Argent Bestiary. And we have a pack that loves us, that are our friends and family, and now we are going to have a child of our own.

I knew when you delivered Scott and Allison's twins last year that the time was right to start a family. The way you held those little babies —our godchildren!— in your arms, how calmly you helped little Melissa Jr. when she wouldn't breathe, how you steadied Scott when you handed his son and daughter to him because you knew he would crumble. The beatific smile on your face: what an awesome dad I knew you'd make. That night you helped me realize that, maybe, I can do this too. And to think you're already calmly planning our next one, and I think it's cool how we're each going to be a biological dad and since the kids will share a biological mom they'll be half-siblings.

You're an amazing doctor. I felt a little selfish having my heart jump with joy when you told me that you were giving up a prestigious fellowship in cardiac surgery to do family medicine instead, because you wanted to stay in Beacon Hills and have more time for us. But I can see the change was the right one; your patients adore you and you are in your element at work. But please know I would happily have stayed in San Francisco for you. I have had all my dreams come true: married to the most wonderful man on the planet and living in the brand new beautiful house we designed together, and now... becoming parents...

You're always the one with the bright ideas. Who convinced me to rebuild my old house and turn it into a guest house and restaurant which now has a Michelin star, courtesy Isaac? Who got us that awesome apartment in Russian Hill after we both decided dorm life was becoming last Tuesday? You. Who dragged me kicking and screaming back to university so I could finish my psychology degree? You. And here I am, a therapist. I love my job. And I love it that I can work half-days and be a househusband in the afternoon and still sit and write trashy romance novels (hey, they paid for our year spent traveling.) 

And who saved my life, literally and figuratively, so many many times?

You.

It's always you my love.

You are my home.

I get to wake up next to your beautiful form curled around mine every day. You never begrudge me a morning shag even when you're at your ditziest and sleepiest, and it's so awesome because we usually get to do it twice a day because you're always horny when you come home from work. I'm blushing now. I love how –unlike most marriages– our appetites have increased even more since we got hitched. But hey, that's the joy of being mates too. The baby is going to dampen this – all worth it, of course. But it's good to write this; I can tell you anything and you'll never judge me. 

I love your cute little nose, I love how you let me be the little spoon even though I'll deny it to anybody, even as you complain you can't see over my shoulders. I love how you smell of the ocean and lemon and mint. I love how little old ladies who are your patients come up to you in the street and describe to you in graphic detail how much better they're feeling. I love how you manage to talk complex sentences in your sleep and your soft snoring when you doze on my chest. I love how you sing off-key and manage to bluff at poker even when everybody else in the room a werewolf. I love how sexy you look in your black scrubs when you do emergency shifts at the hospital, and how I get to rip them off when you come home. (No claws anymore, I promise.) I love how you call me Sourwolf when I'm grumpy and Sillywolf when I'm being daft and Sweetwolf when we cuddle. I love your terrible taste in movies and multiple nerdgasms when you drag me off to Comic-Con every year.

I love how you're a brother to Scott and Isaac. I love how you can go shoe shopping with Allison and Lydia and then switch to bro mode and drink Jackson under the table. I love how you still go to Mass and pray in quiet awe at the universe, yet you'll never force your views on anyone. I love how you play the Fauré Requiem at full blast in your car when you're pissed off and then follow it with Travis. I love how you play with my hair when I'm upset and how you hold me and tell me it will be okay. I love how you drag me to the bathroom and clean me up when I've been injured and insist on putting iodine on my wounds even though it hurts like a bitch and I'm going to heal anyway. I love how you never get a fright when I wolf out — even that very first time when we made love and I was scared I'd freaked you out, but all you did was take a deep breath and run your finger with curiosity across my fangs. You tickled my brow and said I was beautiful. 

You healed me. You complete me. You make me a better wolf and a better man. You are my mate, and my husband, and... my Alpha.

So play this piano, play always, and maybe you can play for me when you're ready, and one day for our children.

I love you, Vojtěch Sigmund Stilinski.

Happy Birthday

your Sweet-Silly-Sourwolf,

Derek

**Author's Note:**

> A sweet little futurefic coda / glimpse into their married lives, and probably will end up linking my 2 works in progress "In The Spaces Of The Dark" and "A Storm Before The Calm."


End file.
